Consequences
What is a consequence, really?
We usually think of it as punishment—someone does something wrong, and something bad happens in return. And yes, consequences can look like that. But they can also come from doing something right.
Newton’s third law says that for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. One force meets another, and both objects respond.
I’ve always imagined consequences working the same way. Growing up, many of us were taught that if someone pushes you on the playground, you push them back—action and reaction. And in our adult hearts, we often carry that same instinct. When someone hurts us, we want them to feel hurt too. When they betray us, we want the consequence to match the wound they left behind.
But life doesn’t work that way—whether the behavior is good or bad. Consequences aren’t clean, equal, or predictable. They simply reveal the impact.
When people face the consequences of their own behavior, many instinctively look for someone else to blame. It’s easier to redirect responsibility than to sit with the reality of what we caused. Think about being grounded for staying out past curfew—we weren’t mad at ourselves for breaking the rule. We were mad at our parents, even though they didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t lie. They didn’t ignore the time. They simply responded to our choice.
That same pattern follows us into adulthood.
When a partner breaks trust and then gets angry at you for asking questions or setting boundaries—when they make you feel crazy for enforcing a consequence—we normalize it. Maybe you don’t, but many of us have at some point. It doesn’t have to be a betrayal as big as mine; we’ve all been on the receiving end of someone’s misplaced anger over their own actions.
I never fully understood this pattern until I faced consequences for doing something right.
I chose honesty. I chose to be transparent about the relationships I had formed during the time when reconciliation felt impossible. And even though it was the right thing to do, that honesty still created a consequence: my person lost trust in me.
I know what everyone is thinking—but as I wrote in my last blog, we aren’t here to compare hurts. Hurt is hurt. And sometimes, doing the right thing still causes a painful reaction.
I wish we could go back to kindergarten, when consequences were simple. Break a rule, move your name down the behavior chart. That was it. No shame. No blame. Just a lesson. Somewhere along the way, we started seeing consequences as something to resent, rather than something meant to teach us.
We need to relearn that if we make a mistake or hurt someone, there will be a reaction—equal and opposite, just like Newton said. Instead of getting angry at the person responding to our behavior, or angry at the consequence itself, we need to learn to say, “Yes, I caused this—and I accept it.”
And then also say to ourselves, “I don’t like this consequence, but I’m willing to learn from it so I never have to face it again.”
Consequences aren’t punishments. They’re teachers. And when we stop fighting them, we finally start growing.
So I want to speak directly to anyone out there who has caused hurt to their person:
Accept responsibility.
Don’t offer excuses.
Don’t rationalize or defend it.
Just take it.
Sit with the discomfort of the consequence that follows.
Feel it.
Let it humble you.
Because learning to sit in that discomfort is vital. It’s what keeps you from repeating the same behaviors. Consequences are supposed to pinch a little—they’re meant to wake you up, not destroy you.
The next time you’re faced with a consequence, remind yourself: my action created this reaction. Not to shame yourself, but to stay honest.
Humble yourself enough to say, “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I’m human.”
God asks us to seek forgiveness because He already knows we’ll fall short. He knows we will sin, stumble, and hurt the people we love. But He also knows that taking responsibility is the first step back toward healing.
In the end, consequences aren’t punishments—they’re teachers. They show us where we’ve fallen short, where we’ve hurt others, and where we still have room to grow. I’ve learned that sitting with discomfort, owning my actions, and asking for forgiveness doesn’t weaken me—it strengthens me. It shapes me into a person who can love more fully, forgive more deeply, and walk with others through their own struggles. God allows consequences not to break us, but to guide us back to truth, grace, and the kind of transformation that lasts. When we embrace them, we don’t just survive—we learn, we grow, and we become who we were meant to be.
